


full of belonging but not full of love

by maggietheepicruler



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abusive Relationship, College AU, F/M, Tamlin the Tool being a Tool as usual, everyone is human, i hurt my own feelings writing this, song fic kinda??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggietheepicruler/pseuds/maggietheepicruler
Summary: Feyre thought she'd met her soulmate, and she was willing to sacrifice everything to stay with him, even if that meant giving up everything she'd ever loved.But eventually she realizes that fitting into Tamlin's perfect plans isn't worth losing herself. So she finds herself again -- and finds a life full of love in the process.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Tamlin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	full of belonging but not full of love

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song pas de deux by dodie. HIGHLY recommend listening to it, it makes me cry every time. I wrote most of this over a year ago, and finished it today!! idk i like it?? so i thought i'd share hehe.  
> tw (kinda) for manipulative/controlling/abusive boyfriends so if u don't like that it might not be the fic for u??? take care of urselves babies  
> Also,, fair warning i did not proof read/edit this at all i am so sorry

Feyre had always loved to paint. When she was just three her parents had put her in Mommy and Me art classes. Her family had laughed about how, even then, she was drawn towards the paints. When the class was coloring pictures with crayons, or playing with clay, she would tottle confidently over to the paint in the corner. And when the class was finger painting, she was so serious - concentrating on colors in ways the teacher claimed she had never seen.

In elementary school, she would spend recess inside with her art teacher, who had caught on to Feyre’s love and talent when she was just seven. She had taught Feyre all about color theory and different art styles. By middle school she had sold several paintings at local art shows. In high school she worked her ass off on her portfolio, working closely with her AP Studio Art teacher to perfect it. Painting was her _passion_ , the only thing in her life that ever made anything feel right.

Until she met _him_ \- Tamlin.They’d met in a foreign politics class her first year at Prythian University. He was tall, with long blonde hair always tied back, and gorgeous green eyes. He had big, ambitious plans - go to law school, run for office, work his way up to being President. He was the kind of guy she had always dreamed about. They sat next to each other in the class for nearly a month before he said anything - he asked to borrow a number 2 pencil before their first exam since he had forgotten his. 

They made small talk almost every class after that - every Tuesday he would ask her about her weekend, and every Thursday he would ask her if she had any fun upcoming plans.  
It was two weeks before their second midterm that she asked him if he would like to study with her. He agreed, offering to host at his apartment which was off campus. He was a year older, and had taken the opportunity to move off campus as soon as possible. She remembered how it felt that first time - beautiful and clean, with massive windows that looked out onto a lush green field, fresh cut flowers on the table in between them while they studied. 

After that, he began asking her to hang out - inviting her over to watch movies at his apartment, or to walk around the rose gardens that were near campus. By the end of her fall semester they had made it official. Tamlin had convinced her that she shouldn’t pursue a degree in visual arts, but rather in political science so they could go to law school - together. That was always the thing with him - she should spend less time doing things like painting, so she could spend more time with him. And she had agreed - at first. It was easy - being sucked into his world. There was Lucien - Tam’s best friend, who had the sharpest wit, and a perpetual smile on his face despite the hardships he had faced in life. He and Feyre had bonded almost instantly. There was also Bron and Hart, who Feyre rarely saw apart. And then there was Ianthe, beautiful and cool, who Feyre wasn’t totally fond of, but who she put up with for Tamlin’s sake.

__

The whole group was popular on campus - _everyone_ knew them, so when Feyre started dating Tamlin, she too became part of the group. She suddenly was invited to the hottest parties, and people she barely knew were smiling and waving at her all over campus. She was beginning to feel like she _belonged_ , something she'd never felt before. She still painted, when she had time, but there never seemed to be enough time these days - running to club meetings with Tam, and spending time on the lawn with the whole gang, so she began painting in her mind, as the stack of unfinished canvases piled up in the corner of her room. 

__

When they all hung out she would sit quietly while the rest of their group chattered - imagining the colors she would need to perfectly match the hue of the changing color of the leaves, and on the rare nights she slept alone in her dorm, she would stay up late - long past finishing her studying and assignments, to paint. 

__

At first, things with Tamlin were _good_. She loved him, and he made her happy, even if he began to occupy seemingly all of her time. It didn’t matter though - because she thought they were soulmates. It seemed like this was how things should be - why did she need to escape into paintings when the world around her finally seemed so vibrant?

__

Things changed that summer though, while they were apart. Tamlin was off in the city with an impressive internship, and she was home, working in the local art store she had frequented growing up. Tamlin had disapproved of her plans - trying to persuade her to come and work in the city with him. His dad could get her an internship, he promised, but she desperately wanted to be home - to spend time with her older sisters and ailing father. She had been on her way home from work - singing along to some bubblegum pop song when it happened - a car accident that had left her in the hospital for weeks. The other driver had come out of nowhere - slamming into Feyre’s side of the car. Tam had gone crazy with worry, sending gift after gift to the hospital, coming to visit nearly every weekend until she recovered enough to come home.  
The following fall she moved into his apartment. It made more sense, he insisted, since she spent most nights there anyways, and that way he could keep an eye on her - make sure she was recovering properly. Plus, he wouldn’t let her pay rent, so it was cheaper than staying at the dorms on campus. And it had been fine at first… but after about a month she was beginning to go a little crazy.

__

“Tam, please, I’m just gonna go to the studio for a few hours…” she said, for the fourth time that week, hoping that this time he would let her go.

__

“Don’t you think you’re a little… old to be spending your time painting, Feyre?” he asked, in a tone that suggested _he_ thought she was too old to be painting.

__

“I…” she said softly, not sure how to argue with him. _Was she too old for painting?_ Tamlin might have been right - maybe it was time for her to focus on more serious pursuits like the debate team that Tamlin seemed to love so much. “Okay,” she said, after a moment. 

__

“Come here,” he said, wrapping her in a tight hug. “It's ok to grow out of things,” he told her knowingly, and she hoped he was right. With Tamlin it was always easiest to just agree, to just do as she’s told. It was better than facing Tamlin’s temper - something she hadn’t realized was so problematic until she moved in with him.

__

\---

__

The fall was rough - Tamlin had dictated nearly everything she did - when they studied, what she had for dinner, when they had sex - it made her dizzy. So in the spring, she made a promise to herself - she would find a way to get back into the studio to paint - even if she had to lie to Tamlin about it. 

__

“Babe, I’m going to the library,” she murmured early one Saturday morning. Tamlin was still mostly asleep, and his arms wrapped around her waist where she was sitting on the edge of their bed.

__

“Stay,” he said, the word more of a command than a suggestion, even in his sleep. 

__

“I can’t,” she replied, her voice soft and persuasive and she carefully extracted herself from his arms. He didn’t stir again, which she took as a good sign, and slipped out of the room. She grabbed a few snacks from the kitchen, and made it out to her car. She took a deep breath in the driveway, trying not to let her nerves get the better of her. Tamlin wouldn’t find out she was at the studio, and even if he did… he couldn’t get that mad… Right?

__

The art building wasn’t far from their apartment, and she thanked all the gods she knew that she didn’t see any of their friends on her way there. Once she arrived she stood outside pacing, suddenly nervous about going inside. But ask soon as she opened the doors, it was like she had never left. She was surprised to realize that she still recognized many of the faces around as she made her way to the studio she had frequented when she was still a visual arts major.

__

“Feyre??” a familiar voice shouted when she walked into the studio. Morrigan, Feyre’s first friend in the art department. They’d met during orientation, and Mor had lived two doors down during Feyre’s freshman year. 

__

“Hi Mor,” Feyre called with a sheepish smile, feeling guilty at not having seen her friend in… she didn’t even know how long. 

__

“What are you doing here?? Where have you been??” Mor asked as Feyre set her supplies down near an easel next to Mor’s. As soon as she had set her things down, Mor hugged her tightly. “I haven’t heard from you since your accident.”

__

“I’ve been… busy…” Feyre said, not wanting to reveal too many details. Suddenly, “my boyfriend doesn’t like that I’m an artist” seemed like a shitty reason not to follow her passion to see her other friends.

__

“I’ve missed you…” Mor said grinning, finally releasing Feyre from the hug. 

__

“I’ve missed you too.” Feyre said with a smile, not only talking about her blonde haired friend. The two sat and painted for hours, chatting about everything from Mor’s new girlfriend, to her how her older cousin had transferred to Prythian last semester and wouldn’t stop bugging her. At 2 pm, Feyre swore. She was covered in paint, and had 2 missed calls from Tamlin.

__

“What’s wrong?” Mor asked, noticing the change in her demeanor.

__

“It’s… nothing. I just… shit. Are you still living on campus?” Feyre asked, wondering how she could explain her disappearing act to Tamlin. Mor shook her head. I’m renting a house right around here, why?”

__

“I need… I need to get this paint off me,” she said, her voice frantic.

__

“Feyre, breathe, relax,” Mor said, hands pressed to her arms, trying to still the shaking in Feyre’s body - the fear.

__

“He can’t know I was here,” was all she said as Mor packed up both of their things and walked them outside. 

__

“What do you mean he can’t know you’re here - Tamlin?” Mor asked, a gentle hand on Feyre’s back as they walked to Mor’s car. Feyre had walked from Tamlin’s apartment - she was still too shaky to drive after her accident. She simply nodded at Mor’s question, thinking about how _angry_ Tam would be that she had _lied_ to him. Lied about where she was going, what she was doing, who she would be with. 

__

“He doesn’t… he thinks art is a childish hobby, and that I should be more focused on our goals,” she said quietly, trying not to make it sound as bad as it was. But - she realized with a start - it was pretty bad. She had always felt uneasy about Tamlin’s insistence that she give up painting, but she always assumed it was because he wanted what was best for her, she had tricked herself into believing that her judgement was clouded - that the responsible thing to do was to give up painting and become something respectable like a lawyer or a politician. Something that fit into Tamlin’s perfect world. That was all she wanted - to be a part of his world, to fit into it. But she had never fit at all.

__

Mor didn’t speak as she drove, something that Feyre found herself grateful for. It wasn’t easy to realize that her boyfriend, the man she thought she loved and who she thought loved her had taken her away from the thing she loved more than anything in the world, the only thing that had ever made sense in her life, ever since she was a child. It took only minutes to get to her apartment, and Mor led her inside, showing her to the bathroom and handing her a fresh bath towel without saying a word.

__

Feyre showered quickly, careful not to get her hair wet, but to scrub the paint off her arms and a few spots on her cheek. When she was certain there wasn’t any paint left on her body she got out, drying off and getting dressed carefully in the clothes she had been wearing that morning. Her smock had protected her clothes from paint splatter, and she felt confident that Tamlin wouldn’t know she had been in the studio. 

__

When she walked down stairs, Mor was standing in the kitchen holding two mugs of tea, and Feyre could see the concern etched in her old friend’s face. She didn’t say anything, though, taking a deep drink from the mug, and pulling out her cellphone. She had two more missed calls from Tamlin, and several texts demanding that she call him immediately. She looked up at Mor when her phone rang again. “Do you mind if I take this?” she asked. Mor shook her head, and Feyre headed into the hallway to pick up.

__

As soon as she pressed “accept,” Tamlin exploded on the other end of the phone. “Where the HELL have you been!!!!” He shouted, and she winced, preparing the lie in her head as he ranted and raved about how worried he was. _I was in the library, I ran into a friend. I’m sorry. My phone was in my bookbag. It won’t happen again_ she chanted in her head, waiting for a chance to explain.

__

“Well?” he said finally, and she realized he had stopped speaking. She opened her mouth several times, willing the words to come out. It took her several tries before she whispered into the phone.

__

“I was in the library, my phone was in my bag. I’m sorry.” She stopped, waiting to see if he would buy the lie and accept her apology. 

__

“I’m picking you up,” he said, and she balked. He knew he wasn’t a fan of her old friends, when they had started dating he thought Mor was a degenerate good for nothing hippie. 

__

“I uh, ran into some friends and I’m not in the library anymore....” she said carefully. Hoping he wouldn’t totally lose it, but knowing that he would.

__

“What friends?” he asked, and she could hear the suspicion in his voice. “Where are you?

__

‘Mor’s apartment,” she said honestly, knowing better than to dig herself into a deeper lie. The other end was silent for a moment, before he responded.

__

“Where does she live? I’m picking you up immediately” his voice was cold like ice, and she knew there would be hell to pay later. The phone shook in her hands as she gave him the address and he promptly hung up. 

__

“Feyre, are you okay?” Mor called out from the other room, but Feyre was too frozen in fear to respond. Suddenly, she couldn’t catch her breath, and the world felt like it was closing in around her. She felt herself sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, burying her face in her hands. She recognized the panic attack - she’d had a few since the accident, but they’d never felt so… real, before. Mor found her minutes later, knees drawn up to her chest, shaking and crying.

__

“Feyre hey, what’s wrong?” Mor asked softly, prying her hands gently away from her face. The sight of Mor’s kind face and honey blonde hair made Feyre cry even harder. Mor had been one of her closest friends before Tamlin and Feyre had totally ditched her, yet here she was, worried about Feyre’s wellbeing.

__

“H-he’s coming.” She said, her voice small, the tears running down her face. She knew that after this he would never let her go out alone - wouldn’t even trust her to go to the library by herself. 

__

“He’s coming _here_?” Mor asked, eyes widening. “Stay right there,” she ordered, standing up, and jogging down the hall. She knocked hard on a door at the end of the hallway, and a tall, raven haired boy walked. This, Feyre half realized in her stress addled brain, must be Mor’s older cousin who had recently transferred to Prythian. She heard Mor explain the situation quickly - Feyre’s abusive (she winced at the word, though she realized it was true), boyfriend was on his way here. The boy’s gaze moved down the hall, and settled on Feyre. His eyes softened, and he nodded. He would make sure Tamlin got lost when he arrived. 

__

“Everything is going to be fine,” Mor murmured softly to Feyre, pulling her to her feet, and leading her into the living room. “Rhys is going to take care of everything, he’ll make sure Tamlin doesn’t hurt a hair on your head.”

__

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” Feyre heard herself say, almost automatically, although she now wondered if that were entirely true. He might have hurt her. He never had, not physically, although he had gotten close. She sat with Mor on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, willing her hands to stop shaking. 

__

It took less than 5 minutes before Tamlin’s car pulled up outside of Mor and Rhys’ townhouse. “Where is she?” She heard him shout outside, imagining the rage on his face when he saw Rhys sitting on the porch. Feyre wasn’t really allowed to talk to men outside of Tamlin’s friends, and even then, Tamlin made sure she was kept at a distance. She couldn’t hear much of the conversation, except for the occasional shouts from Tamlin, but it took about 15 minutes before she heard his car go speeding off, and it finally felt like she could breathe again. 

__

\--------  
4 Months Later

__

By May, Feyre’s life finally felt like it was back on track. Mor and Rhys had helped her move her things out of Tamlin’s house, and she moved into the spare bedroom in their house. It had previously been a studio and office space for the cousins, but they had happily given it up to Feyre when she sheepishly told them that she didn’t have anywhere else to live. She’d switched her major, too, back to visual arts, and began spending all of her time with Mor and Rhys and their friends, all of whom Feyre loved, and who loved her back, even Amren, who didn’t seem to particularly love anyone.

__

The first few weeks of the breakup had been hard -- she second guessed her decisions often, especially when Tamlin would send her sweet texts - begging her to come home, promising that he’d change. Even though she knew he was lying she had thought about it. Around March the texts stopped -- when she ran into Lucien on campus one chilly afternoon he informed her that Tamlin had started dating Ianthe. _Good for them_ , she had thought, giving Lucien a tight lipped smile, and leaving to meet Cassian and Mor for coffee.

__

And then there was Rhys - the other thing that seemed to be going well in Feyre’s life. Very well, if she was being honest. When she woke up crying from nightmares the first night she moved in, he had been sitting on the couch reading, and when she had made her way out into the living room, he offered to make her a cup of tea. They began to do this every night -- staying up for hours just talking. She told him everything - all about her family and her relationship with Tamlin and her love of painting. She tried, she really did, not to fall for him. He was dark and patient and thoughtful - the opposite of Tamlin in every way. By March she had given up on pretending like she didn’t have feelings for him, but she was certain he didn’t feel the same way. Until, one Saturday, after a night of drinking, and he confessed his feelings. She’d kissed him. After that, they’d been together.

__

“Feyre darling,” she heard him call down the hall, and then a knock at her bedroom door. She was seated on a stool by an easel, working on a project for one of the art classes the registrar had managed to squeeze her into 3 weeks late. 

__

“Come in!” she called, setting her brush down, and turning to face the dark haired boy walking in. 

__

“What are you working on, my love?” he asked, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She explained briefly the concept of the project to him, always surprised at his rapt attention at whatever she was talking about. It was still hard to believe that he genuinely cared about her passion for art, but he did. 

__

“Well whenever you finish, we were going to grab pizza with everyone,” he told her, never pressuring her to stop doing what she loved to hang out with him. 

__

“I’m ready to go now,” she said brightly, happy with the progress she had made on her piece. She untied her smock, hanging it up, and running a comb quickly through her hair. 

__

“You’re stunning, you know,” he said, smiling as a blush crept into her cheeks. That was another thing she was never used to - unprompted, genuine compliments. She took his hand, and realized, not for the first time, that she was finally living her life without walking on eggshells, surrounded by people that made her feel like she belonged and was loved.

__


End file.
